Blood shed unrighteously, blood unappeas'd,
(Though we are guiltless,) cries, I fear, for vengeance.
Count. Blood shed unrighteously! have I shed blood?
No; nature's common frailties set aside,
I'll meet my audit boldly.
Countess. Mighty Lord!
O! not on us, with justice too severe,
Visit the sin, not ours.
Count. What can this mean?
Something thou wouldst reveal, that's terrible.